


Boys Who Speak With Silver Luck

by ProblematicFavesAreProblematic (SaritaNotSerena)



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Poetry, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaritaNotSerena/pseuds/ProblematicFavesAreProblematic
Summary: A soul sister/ unofficial sequel to You've Been Sad (I've Been Lonely)
Relationships: Joseph Liebgott/Reader
Kudos: 3





	Boys Who Speak With Silver Luck

“I still don’t see how you can read those things.”

You smirk to yourself, nudging his thigh with your foot as he sits at the foot of the bed. 

In retaliation, Joe lightly traces the tip of his finger up the arch of your right foot and chuckles when you flinch at the tickle of it, the chuckle becoming a laugh when you lower your book and frown at his mirth.

“And here _I_ thought you were _actually_ wanting to do something nice for me,” you tease, letting him pull your foot back into his lap and watching him smirk as he returns to massaging the sore muscles there. “ _Should’ve known you were gonna betray me eventually…._ ”

He scoffs at your theatrics, mumbling a soft apology when you hiss in discomfort as his thumb works on a particularly tight knot just above your heel.

“Why do you wear those things if they hurt your feet so badly?”

You furrow your brows at him, resting the book on your stomach as you let a smile play on your lips.

“They’re called heels, and I wear them because they make my legs look _amazing_.”

Joe tilts his head to the side as his face takes on a contemplative expression.

“‘This _is_ true…” he says with a nod. “You look fuckin’ gorgeous in ‘em.”

You offer a _hmph_ in smug agreement, picking your book back up and continuing where you left off.

Tonight had been the night of Chuck’s family’s yearly holiday party, the one night where both you and Joe dressed to the nines and got to rub elbows with people Joe and Chuck lovingly referred to as ‘ _rich snobs with inherent mommy fetishes_ ’. 

Joe never failed to leave you starstruck when he wore his nicest uniform, and even though you didn’t wear yours, Joe always managed to convince you to pin your Purple Heart and as many unit citations you could fit to the breast of whatever dress you picked out. 

_“Fuckin’_ **_love_ ** _watching those ignorant fuck’s faces when they realize what a badass my wife is,” he had growled in your ear as you had gotten ready that night. “Gets me harder than a_ **_goddamn rock_ ** _, you got no idea…”_

The two of you had danced and drank and laughed over some of the most amazing food you’d ever tasted. It had been perfect.

More and more things were becoming perfect as time went on and the dark horrific shadows of war began to shrink away under the bright California sunshine. 

It was heartbreakingly nice to see Joe happy, truly happy. He deserved it- you all deserved it.

A groan of frustration is the only warning you get before Joe crawls up your body and plops himself atop you, the suddenness of the action making you release a grunting giggle. Undeterred by the obvious fact that you’re trying to read, he kisses at your chest through your shirt.

“Pay” _kiss_ “attention” _kiss_ “to meeee” _kiss_

You take one hand from the book to scratch lightly at his scalp, smiling at the sound of him humming in annoyance.

“What’s in that dumb book that’s got you glued to it, huh? What can big _words_ give you that _my_ big— _OW_.”

You cut him off by clunking the book gently against the back of his head, giving him a soft smile when he looks up at you with a frown.

“You’re _so needy,_ ” you chastise hollowly. “Never thought you’d get jealous over something as silly as poetry—”

Joe rolls his eyes. “Poems are for kids and nerds, don’t get what it is about-” he sits up a bit more so he can see the cover of your book. “Whatever an _ee cummings_ is that’s got you so gaga over it…”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Believe it or not, Joseph, I think you’d actually _like_ this guy’s poems—”

Joe snorts before bringing his head back down to rest on your chest. “Yeah, _okay—”_

_“Hey,”_ you challenge, scooting up on your pillows so you can sit up, the movement bringing his head to your ribcage. “I’m serious! If you were to like any sort of poetry, you’d need it to be as sexual and swear-y as _you_ are…. Here, listen-”

Before he can protest, you flip to the one you had in mind: _44_.

_“the boys i mean are not refined_

_they go with girls who buck and bite_

_they do not give a fuck for luck_

_they hump them thirteen times a night_

_one hangs a hat upon her tit_

_one carves a cross on her behind_

_they do not give a shit for wit_

_the boys i mean are not refined…”_

“Gimme that!”

Suddenly, the book is ripped from your hand- and before you can protest you are shocked to see Joe turn the book so he can bury his nose in it. Careful not to be smug about it, you bite back a smile as you watch him mouth the words as he reads. 

The fact that you’re able to hold in a laugh when his eyebrows shoot up in surprise should make you eligible for another Purple Heart.

When Joe’s eyes flick up to meet yours, he’s looking at you as if you’ve just done some suspicious slide of hand- intrigued but still somewhat cautious.

“Well?” you ask. “ _What did you think?_ ”

Joe flicks his gaze down to the book again, like he thinks it may have changed somehow when he wasn’t looking.

“Are they…. _all_ like this?”

You do smile now. “Well, I’m not sure- I haven’t read them all yet.”

An idea pops into your mind as he flips through the pages of the book.

“If you give it back, I can see if I can find another—”

Joe suddenly smirks, and when he lifts his face so you can see him, he’s looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Read _this one_.”

Now you’re the hesitant one, taking the book back from him as if it could suddenly turn into a snake.

The poem he’s picked is one you haven’t read yet, but if it’s one that Joe picked out you can only imagine what the subject matter is.

“ _Okay_ then,” you say slowly, clearing your throat as you cast him a brief look of suspicion before beginning.

“ _may i feel said he_

_(i'll squeal said she_

_just once said he)_

_it's fun said she_ ”

_(may i touch said he_

_how much said she_

_a lot said he)_

_why not said she….”_

As you read, Joe’s hands come up to hold your sides as he kisses slowly across your chest, your stomach. Every so often, his thumbs smooth upward to rub across your shirt-covered nipples, and you can feel him smile as he kisses at you.

Your shirt has bunched up, revealing your hips and the sensitive skin between them. Your cheeks feel hot, and your mouth suddenly becomes dry as his lips drag between your hip bones promisingly.

His hair tickles your skin when he begins mouthing lower, to the waistband of your underpants.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you sigh, tongue wetting your bottom lips as you begin to breathe heavier.

“ _Keep reading._ ”

Oh. You hadn’t realized that you’d stopped.

Clearing your throat, you blink a few times before finding the place you left off.

“Uh, _(let's go said he_

_not too far said she_

_what's too far said he_

_where you are said she)_

_may i stay said he_

_(which way said she_

_like...like this said he_

_I-if you_ **_kiss_ ** _said she- shit_ , Joe….”

Joe’s warm hands have worked your underwear down your hips and around the swell of your bottom, and the heat of his breath across the thinner skin that he’s exposed has you losing focus again.

Because he’s nothing if not a consummate tease, he doesn’t do anything more than kiss only a sliver of the newly revealed skin.

“Y/N…” he reminds you, nipping lightly at you when you groan in frustration. “I think there’s still some to go—”

Your heart is thrumming in your chest, and it takes you a few seconds to find where you left off this time.

“M- _may i move said he_

_is it love said she)_

_if you're….._ uh, _if you’re willing said he_

_(but….. you're killing said she….”_

The words have started to dance across the page, a whine coming from somewhere deep in your chest at the first touch of his fingers to the slick lips of your sex.

You’ve officially lost your place, now. You just pick the stanza your eye catches first and hope for the best.

“ _(tiptop said he_

_don't stop said she_

_oh no said he)_

_go slow said she-_ **_fuuuuuck….._ **

I- _(cccome?said he…._ god _damn it_ Joe, _please_!”

You throw the book off to the side, sweat beading on your brow from how deliberately cruel Joe is stroking you. When Joe sees that you’ve started to shake, he lunges up the bed to wrap a hand around the back of your neck and kisses you messily- your teeth clacking together briefly as he buries his fingers inside of you and immediately finds the place that never fails to ruin you.

Clinging to the front of his shirt, you squeeze your thighs together as a delicious tremor rolls up your body from where you’ve trapped his hand. You’re so worked up you almost want to cry, the heat in your lower belly almost bowing your back.

“Does that feel good, Baby?” he mumbles against your lips. “Who is it that’s making you feel this good, huh?”

You make an incoherent noise, quickly wrapping am arm around his shoulders to try and bring his mouth back to yours, mewling in frustration when he refuses to do so.

“ _Ungh_ ! Joe, _I’m begging you!”_

“Say it again,” he says darkly, and if you had the strength to open your eyes you’d see just the power-drunk way he is looking down at you. “ _Do it—”_

“Joe! _Joe Joe Joe Joe Joe….”_

You chant his name like a prayer, your voice dying in your throat as he starts using his palm to stimulate your neglected clit.

With a silent scream, you come apart, head lolling back as he continues to coax you through your orgasm, dimly aware of the praise being kissed across your chin as he refuses to relent the punishing paste he’s established.

Your face is throbbing with the strength of your thudding heart when he finally starts to slow down, your body still bowing and writhing as he begins to coo down at you sweetly, capturing your lips with his as your shaking starts to subside and your sweat begins to cool.

“Good girl,” he sighs into your mouth. “You’re such a good girl for me….”

You don’t reply- _can’t_ reply. Joe’s reduced you into a boneless mess of a woman.

When you do eventually open your eyes, Joe is smiling down at you with an obvious affection that threatens to get your heart racing once more. Not taking his eyes from yours, he gently slides his fingers from your still-fluttering sex and makes a show of licking them clean. 

With a mischievous wink, he uses his other hand to smooth your hair from your forehead before carefully rolling so he’s laying beside you, his shoulder pressed against your as he chuckles.

“Huh, whaddaya know,” he says after he releases one of his fingers from between his lips with a lewd _pop._ “Guess poetry isn't that bad.”

Using all of your energy, you turn your head to give him the weakest glare you think you’ve ever given.

“When….when I can breathe witho’ havin’ to t _hink about it so hard_ , I’m gon’ make you cum til you pass out.”

Joe gives you a smiling kiss.

“And I’ll let you….once we finish round two.”

_Well, looks like I’ll be going back to the bookstore sooner than I thought._

**Author's Note:**

> All poetry mentioned is from the anthology No Thanks by ee cummings, and the title is from the song (inspired by 44 by ee cummings) comes from The Boys Are Too Refined by The Hush Sound


End file.
